Page 104 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

She rolls her eyes. “Sex isn’t going to put the baby at risk. You can research it. It’s entirely safe.”

Before I can argue, she reaches behind me, snatches my phone off the desk, and hands it to me.

I lean back against the edge of the desk, caging her between my legs, watching her with raised brows.

“Okay.” I take the phone and type: pregnant woman having sex.

The second the results load, I know I’ve made a mistake.

Laurel bursts out laughing and snatches the phone from my hand. “Oh my God,” she says, still laughing. “At least now you know it’s possible.”

I groan and snatch the phone back. “Enough.”

She bursts out laughing, the sound I’ve missed so much. “At least now we can refer to some of those positions when I get bigger.”

I growl low, tossing the phone onto the desk. “You’re trouble.”

She bites her lip again, eyes dancing. “Your trouble.”

Fucking right.

She crosses her arms under her breasts, pushing them up against the half-unbuttoned fabric, and tilts her head.

“You either take me back to bed right now, Mr. Volkov, and give me a mind-blowing orgasm,” she says, voice low and teasing, “or I go back there and give it to myself.”

My cock jumps so hard it hurts.

I pull her closer, mouth crashing down on hers, deep, hungry. My hands slide under the shirt, palms gliding over bare skin, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. She moans into my mouth, hips rocking forward, seeking friction.

I break the kiss just enough to rasp against her lips, “You only come by my cock,” I growl against her ear, “my hand, my tongue, or any other means I allow. Is that clear?”

She bites her lower lip, slow, and nods. “Okay.” Her voice is breathy, already trembling with anticipation.

“So…” She leans in, lips brushing my jaw. “Are you going to do it now, or are we going to talk all night?”

I growl, low, feral, and scoop her up in one motion, her legs wrapping around my waist instantly. “That pretty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

She laughs soft, delighted she’s finally getting what she wants. I carry her down the hall to our bedroom. Our. Fuck, I love the sound of that.

I kick the door shut behind us, lower her onto the bed, and follow her down. I’ve been starving for her for weeks, and now I have to control the urge to get too rough with her.

I start with her mouth, kissing her deep, slow, tasting the sweetness of her. She moans into me, fingers threading through my hair, pulling me closer. I drag my lips down her throat, sucking lightly at the spot that makes her gasp, then lower, nipping the swell of her breast through the shirt, wetting the fabric until it clings transparently to her nipple.

I rip the shirt open, buttons popping, scattering across the floor, and take her breast into my mouth. Tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch. She cries out, needy, hands fisting the sheets.

“Leonid—”

I switch to the other nipple, sucking hard while my hand slides down her stomach, parting her thighs. She’s already soaked, hot, dripping for me. I groan against her skin, fingers circling her clit once, twice, then sliding lower to push two inside her.

She bucks, moaning my name like a prayer.

I work her slowly at first, curling my fingers, stroking that spot that makes her thighs shake, then faster, thumb pressing her clit in tight circles. Her hips rock desperately, chasing my hand, breath coming in short, broken gasps.

I pull my fingers free right as she starts to tremble. She whimpers, frustrated, desperate.

“Not yet,” I murmur, kissing down her stomach, spreading her thighs wider. “First I want you on my tongue.”

I settle between her legs, hook them over my shoulders, and drag my tongue through her folds, slow, long, savoring every drop of her. She tastes like heaven, sweet, mine. I circle her clit, flick it, suck it into my mouth and hum. She cries out, hips jerking, hands flying to my hair.